Tonight's The Night
by EdwardVanElric
Summary: Edward has never considered himself a violent man, only injuring the opposing when truly needed. When he becomes witness to his wife's murder, he considers his options and takes up a rather unorthodox way of channeling his anger, letting his newly found Dark Passenger take the wheel. Dexter AU EdWin, AlMay, possible future pairings
1. Fender Bender

I don't think I remember a night where I last slept peacefully. Every night when I laid to rest it ended the same: relentlessly restless, never falling asleep for more than an hour. Ever since that messy, bloody, stressful night, I haven't gotten a wink, because all I could hear were those cries of a poor, tortured soul.

And that poor, tortured soul's name was Allen.

My eyes cracked open as a mass cries sounded from down the hall and I looked to my wife, who'd become quite resistant to those exact noises for the last few days, knowing she wasn't the only parent. It was my turn, I suppose. I swung myself over the side of the bed and stalked down the hall, weighted legs carrying me to the nursery.

Allen really did need to learn to control this display of behavior-but you can't really tell that to a nine month old baby. His siblings never cried this much, he must have gotten it from his mother. No, never me, what would make you think that?

I scooped my hands under the small child and picked him up carefully, swaying him side to side in weak attempts to calm him. I felt bad for infants, I truly did. So new to the world, they've never felt real pain or discomfort-so any pain or discomfort they feel sends their little brains in overdrive, they think the world is ending!

"You would not survive half the shit I went through." I mumbled, still bouncing him. With no response I made a face, a puff of air leaving my nose. Babies were the worst conversationalists. Still, I carried on, knowing eventually I'd have to start watching my language. "Someday you'll be able to understand me. We don't want that, nooo."

By the time Allen stopped crying I'd already realized sleep wasn't an option, so I put him in his crib and crept to my study. I was supposed to wake up in an hour anyhow, I had work in South City. I needed to drive all the way there to meet with Colonel-no, Fuhrer Bastard and give my blood reports. That old fart had no reason to come and see me for said reports, his men could handle it, but I was curious to know why he continued to show up anyway. Could it be he actually missed me?

I laughed loudly at the simple thought and covered my mouth, eyes darting back to my son's room from where I sit in my study. In the clear I shook my head. Still, I chuckled, chin in hand. What an absurd train of thought that was.

I sat in my office, coffee in hand, for a good half an hour before I deemed it necessary to start my 'I have to drive all the way to South City' morning routine: shower, sulk, eat breakfast, sulk, get the kids ready for school, wake up my wife, sulk some more, then kiss them all and leave for what would be the sulkiest, most self-loathing filled car ride of my life. Though that was every trip away from Resembool.

As I grabbed my keys Granny stopped me by the doorway, pipe in her hand already so early in the morning. "I'm leaving in a few hours for an out of town automail fitting." She stated flatly, smoke escaping her lips. "I'll be gone a few days, so I want you home as soon as possible. I don't want Winry and the kids alone for too long with that psycho running around."

I pursed my lips, closing my eyes for just a moment. "I know, I know, don't remind me. I've got the blood reports about the same guy in my bag," I pat said bag for emphasis, "you don't have to tell me that."

She grinned and nodded, letting me through the door. I tossed my bag into the back seat of my car and sat down in the drivers seat, rubbing my face in one last, weak attempt to wake myself up. Aside from my earlier joking, Allen really was becoming a problem every night, hindering my sleep schedule drastically. Winry, not so much. The past few weeks she had grown quite accustomed to hearing those cries, and was also used to me being the one to solve the problem, and she accepted that gladly. She carried the boy for nine months, it was the least I could do.

I started the car and threw on my seatbelt, pulling out and starting down the makeshift road. Work was getting much more difficult, though. I'd messed up a blood report recently because I couldn't think straight-hell I couldn't even see straight due to the lack of sleep and I got my ass chewed out by Fuhrer Dipshit. If he had three kids, he wouldn't be such an ass about it, at least I'd like to think.

When I finally arrived to South City HQ I was stopped, as usual, ID'd as usual, and sent on my way through the front gates. Through the door, twenty steps, up the stairs, about fifty-two steps in total there, thirty-three steps down the long hallway, turn left, and there's the office I considered hell. I'd spend around an hour in there briefing my reports, hand them over, then leave. Sometimes we all did lunch, but Granny was right; I had to get home.

Mustang was already present in the office, smirking at me and most likely inwardly laughing at my disheveled appearance. "What are we calling this look, Elric?"

A little confused-it couldn't be that bad- I used the window as a mirror, frowning. Dark circles, frown lines and scruff I had been too tired to shave away this morning. I raised my eyebrows and turned towards him, forcing a smile. "I call it 'Daddy Doesn't Get Much Sleep Anymore', latest look this summer, try it." I laughed, pointing a finger at him. "Oh, that's right, Hawkeye wont give you that lay you've been groveling for."

"Shove it, Edward." He grumbled, pointing to the chair across from him. With him, only Maes and Jean were present, and I thanked the Gate internally Hawkeye wasn't there to hear my quip. I sat down and fished the folders from my bag, throwing them on the table, but before I could even begin, Mustang butted in with another snide remark. "These ARE the right reports, aren't they, Edward?"

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. "Fuck off, I said I was sorry."

I couldn't see it, but I knew Mustang smirked before dropping the topic and going back to reading the report. "So we still don't have a possible suspect?"

I shook my head.

"We're five killings in."

I pointed to Hughes. "Ask him, he's the one on the case. I'm just the blood guy. I do my lab shit and leave." I sighed, letting my hand support my aching head. As Mustang began to ask Hughes and Havoc about what they'd found I felt myself dozing off, nearly hitting the table before Mustang woke me back up with a curt command, voice stern.

"Wake up, Elric, now what do all of these victims have in common?" Mustang asked.

"Women, blonde, middle aged, maybe 30's-40's, mothers." I stated mechanically. Every women could be sisters, they were even close together in height. "Whoever this guy is he's either got some weird fetish or strong bias."

"Well, considering the women weren't harmed sexually," Jean began, looking over his own reports, "we can rule that out-this guy's just really got beef with middle-aged moms."

"Maybe something that happened with his own mother?" Hughes chimed in curiously, looking to me from the corner of his eye. I nodded.

"Probably. Maybe abuse." I replied. "This murder is a little different, though. The guy's been bludgeoning them to death with big items, probably a bat, the impact wounds on this recent victim's body say otherwise." I pointed to the gruesome photos laid out on the table. "He may have used a hammer for this one, the splatter on the walls indicated that's a strong possibility. He may have deemed it easier to weild. We can also guess that from the location of the wounds, he snuck up on them from behind, and he's gotta be tall. Maybe six foot." I moved on to the next photo. "From where he kills them, he drags them elsewhere, usually the bathroom, leaves them in the tub to bleed out. Fuck if I know why but whatever."

Mustang leaned back. "So all we got for a possible ID is that he's six foot or taller?" I nodded. "Wonderful."

"Until we get an eye witness to one of these damn things, there's not much we can do." I bit out. "We could always have guards staking out houses. Houses that belong to women who match the victim's characteristics."

"We could try that." Hughes stated. "I'll get an order in when we get back to Central. We don't know when he's going to kill again, so I say we station some guards out tomorrow night."

"Do that." I said. "We'll have some guards stationed in Central, and watch the city borders. Eventually he'll run out of victims there and move, if he hasn't already."

Mustang agreed and stood, shaking my hand when I stood as well. "That's all we needed today. If another body pops up we'll contact you."

I glared at him. "I can't keep commuting back and forth like this, you know."

"So move to Central."

"Winry doesn't want to. Besides, you have other blood experts."

"None like you." He smiled, genuinely this time, and turned to leave, Havoc grinning and waving to me as he followed Roy out, Maes in tow.

I stood there for a moment and sighed, picking up my bag and heading out as well. I stopped by a payphone and dialed my house phone, waiting for an answer. Upon receiving none and being sent to the machine I made a face, one of befuddlement, and a little worry. I dialed again.

"Sorry, sorry!" Winry answered on the other side immediately. "Allen was crying, the kids were fighting and-" She stopped and took a breath, probably taking a moment to fix her hair. "Rockbell Automail, how can I help you?" Her tone was sweet but business-like; it was warm, just the way her customers liked it. I smiled.

"Yes, I was calling about scheduling a maintenance check today?" I played, trying to sound as seductive as possible. "Are you _open_ at all today?"

"Weelllll..." Winry played along, knowing now that it was me. "I may be able to _fit_ you in ..."

I bit my lip, grinning. "I sure hope so, Mrs. Elric, I've got quite the tight spot, think some things need to be loosened up."

She laughed on the other end of the line. "I'm not doing this anymore, you're probably on a public phone and the kids are in the other room...What do you need, Ed?"

"You wound me, darling." I replied, leaning against the wall of the phonebooth. "I'm on my way home, expect me in about two hours. Why don't we go somewhere for dinner tonight?"

"Just you and me?" She asked, voice hopeful.

"Just you and me." I reassured her. "We can have the neighbors watch the kids. C'mon, it'll be fun. Be ready when I get home."

"It'll still be early in the afternoon by the time you get here." She asked, confused. "Only two o'clock. Are you sure?"

"Well we don't have to go to dinner right away. We could-" I was stopped mid-sentence when a man dressed in a military uniform knocked on the glass, motioning for me to come with him. By the paleness of his face I could only guess it wasn't something I was going to enjoy. "A-actually, Win, something came up. I'll call you again when I'm on my way home."

"Is everything ok?"

"Fine, but this officer looks like he's going to puke." I noted, watching as the man worked hard to even out his breathing. "I'll be home as soon as I can."

"Be careful."

"Will. Love you." I hung up, not waiting for a response, and let the officer guide me to what appeared to be a new crime scene-the house was taped off, cars surrounded the area. A disheveled looking man left sitting in the front yard with his head in his hands. The husband, I guessed.

Maes was at the front door, waiting for me. "Mustang's headed back to Central already, body guards wouldn't let him stay any longer, Jean went with him. The killer's moved."

"To South City?" I asked, though I knew what the answer to that was. The thought made me feel nauseous, he was getting too close for comfort. I pulled on the gloves offered to me and looked to Maes. "We'll station guards here tonight. This is weird, though." I said, walking into the house. The immediate scent of iron filled my nose and I curled my lip in disgust. Traveling automatically to the bathroom laid the women in her bathtub, skull bashed open, and...chopped up. That's new. "This body is fresher than how we usually find them, it took place later than the other kills. They're usually killed around nine AM, like on a schedule...and in one piece...this isn't right. The husband is home. Unarmed. Are you sure it was our guy?" As I spoke I inspected the wounds on her head.

"M.O.'s the same." He said. "Bludgeoning, left in the tub."

"But chopped up."

Maes shrugged.

Without my kit I couldn't do much, but I could at least analyze the situation at hand. We traveled back into the kitchen. "...the impact wounds are a little too big for it to be the same weapon as last time...Unless he switched it back up..." I stood up, looking at the spatter on the walls, then to where the women lay, then back to the walls. "She...was standing here, maybe leaning against this counter, probably checking the mail." I nudged the envelopes on the floor with my foot. "He snuck up behind her..." I brought my arm up, reenacting the scene for Maes. "And hit her. Hard. Once so she fell..." I brought my arm down in a swinging motion. "...and second time for good measure." I stood up straight, thinking." What statement did her husband give?"

"Came home to this."

I furrowed my brow and turned without a word, heading outside. I approached the man in the front yard and asked if he could stand.

"Wh-why?" He asked, defensive.

"Please stand for me." I stated again, this time it was less of a question and more of a demand. "I need to see your shirt." As he stood I continued asking questions. "Where were you before you came home?"

"Lunch break from work." He replied flatly. I glanced up at him then back to his shirt.

"Where do you work?"

"Law firm, across town."

"What time did you get out of work?"

He was furious now, glaring at me with stone blue eyes. "I got out at eleven for lunch! It even says so on my timecard! You can't possibly blame me for this!"

I rolled my eyes. "Well I can tell you now that your wife hasn't been laying there that long, blood is very fresh." I glanced up at him. "It's about quarter after noon now, isn't it? Wouldn't take that long to drive here, bludgeon her, leave her in the tub, put on your face and call the police." I pulled at his shirt a little, leaning back to look at it. "There's blood-spatter on your shirt. Not a lot, but it's there." What about cutting her up?

"It's from when I found her-I held her! S-She's my wife, damn it! She was taken from me!"

"Spatter doesn't happen just by holding someone..." I mumbled.

While it did seem plausible that it was him, he probably didn't have time to cut her up, unless he's lying about when he got out? But how did the spatter get on him?

He seemed distressed now as an officer came out of the house, calling Hughes back inside to look at something-a word about a weapon. My eyes darted back to the husband. "You must not be very good at hide and seek if you can't hide a simple weapon, hm?" I stepped away from him as Hughes waved me into the house, motioning for the police to keep the man where he was.

"Found a weapon." He stated. "Monkey wrench."

"So he tried to copy our killers style to get away with it." I sighed, mostly in relief. So the killer hadn't made it to South City, he wasn't nearing my family. "Kinda defeats the purpose if you can't hide the fucking weapon." I shook my head and let Hughes take care of the rest of it, rubbing the back of my head. How uneventful.

Unfortunately now that meant that I had to run back to my car, drive to HQ to grab an extra kit, go all the way back to the scene and do my job. I wasn't going to take it all the way home only to return the next day, so I stayed and worked on the report in South HQ. I snapped the pictures I needed and left, using the same office I was in earlier to work. I wouldn't be able to test it out but I could get the basics down and hand it over to the experts here. I'd start it, they could finish it.

It took me all of two hours to examine the scene and write the damn thing and I was out the door again. I phoned Winry, promised I'd been home within two hours and set out, not allowing for anything else to stop me.

About an hour and a half in I rubbed my eyes, still not entirely awake. At this point it was probably a bad idea to have left my glasses at home but hey, I wasn't about to admit I needed them. As I drove down the road, passing through a neighboring city, I jolted up, gripping the steering wheel. _I was fucking falling alseep. You're only half an hour from home, you can do it. _I continued to tell myself this, over and over, a chant in my head, until that chant sounded more like a lullaby, and my eyes slipped closed again.

They opened again when I heard a honk-I sat up immediately and grabbed the wheel, skidding past another car as I drove into their lane by accident. I tried to steady the car back out and instead, of course, I made it worse. After that I wasn't sure what had happened, or how bad I was hurt, or how many times my car had rolled.

All I could hear was yelling, I was too tired to open my eyes. Blood rushed to my head as I hung upside down and that seemed to be the only thing I was sure of. Instead of staying awake to figure out I let myself drift to sleep, ignoring the pounding in my head.


	2. A (little) White Lie

I didn't sleep for long, of course, no. Why would that happen? Instead when I awoke I was in the hospital, still in my clothes. I made a move to sit up, face scrunching up in pain as I tried to ignore my aching muscles so I could at least fucking think clearly but all I could focus on was the throbbing in my head. When that subdued I opened my eyes and looked around, then to the clock. It was a little after five and I groaned, resting my head in my hands.

I fucking hated hospitals.

My doctor chose then enter the room and insisted that I lay down. "Sir, it's not safe to leave yet-"

"How bad is it, then?" I bit out, patience running thin. The doctor sighed, angry as well.

"It's just a bad concussion, we've patched up any cuts you suffered."

"What happened?"

"Well, hard to say, really." He replied, crossing his arms. "But from eye-witness reports, you rolled your car, how you did it, I'm not sure."

I looked away nervously. "I haven't been getting much sleep."

"Then don't drive. You rolled your car four times, sir, the fact that you're not dead is astounding. You're going to stay overnight for observation."

Oh, fuck that. "Sure, fine." I said, and he left. Winry came running into the room not long after the doctor left, and she looked...gorgeous for someone in such distress. As promised she had been ready for our date, red dress and all. I smiled at her. "You look amazing."

"Wish I could say the same for you." She tried to joke but instead her voice cracked. Aw shit, please don't-she began to cry despite my silent protests and crossed the room, hugging me as tight as she could without hurting me. "Thank God you're okay, the doctor on the phone didn't tell me anything."

"It was only a little fenderbender." I lied. "I'm fine." Lie again. "Doctor even said I'm clear to leave." Lie, lie, lie your way, gently through this mess. "They just brought me in for good measure." Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily- "Was anyone else hurt?"

"No, not that I'm aware of." She replied, voice evening out. She pulled back and kissed my head and I forced myself not to wince at the contact. "Are you sure you're okay?"

I nodded, then before the doctor could return I ushered her out, not letting myself get trapped there. "Still up for dinner?"

She looked at me with the cutest face, obviously confused. "Are YOU still up for dinner?"

I shrugged. "I don't see why not. How'd you get here anyway?"

"Neighbor drove me." She replied. "They told me your car was in shop, do you want to go look at it-"

"NO-" I said quickly, a little too quickly and my wife furrowed her brow at me. "I just mean I can come get it myself, don't worry about it. Let's focus on dinner."

It took a moment, but she bought it, leading me out to the neighbor's car parked out front. Not much was said on the ride home, not much needed to be. With the pounding in my head I could only be thankful for the silence. We arrived home quickly and I thanked our neighbor for coming out to get us-apparently his wife was still at home with our kids, watching them for the night while we went on our little date, which, well, was more of an escape if you ask me.

"Maybe the Johnsons can just keep the kids for the whole night." I said. "Maybe we could actually sleep. Well, I could."

"Please, if we didn't have the kids around neither of us would be sleeping." It took me a minute, stupid me, I didn't even realize what she meant until she winked at me and I melted, only managing a dry 'oh'.

"Remember what happened the last time we sent the kids away for quiet time?" I asked with a lopsided grin. "Allen. Allen happened. Do we need more kids?"

"Well if you're timing wasn't so horrible..." She teased, and we went upstairs. I cleaned myself up as she waited on the bed-I couldn't tell if she was waiting for me to get ready or take her. Pulling myself together and mustering up enough willpower I ignored the latter possibility and put on decent clothes, walking her outside.

"Good thing you're wearing flats." I said, linking my arm around her waist. "We're gonna be walking a ways."

She let out a chuckle. "It's your fault. How did you manage to get into an accident anyway?"

"I told you it was a fenderbender." I reiterated, speaking slowly. "And I just wasn't paying attention, kind of dozing. Allen sure is fussy at night."

"I know, he's worse than Caiden and Rita were..." She sighed, putting a hand to her cheek. "I honestly don't know where he got it from."

I rolled my eyes and pulled her closer, letting her rest her head on my shoulder. "What about Caiden's recent behavior?"

"It's called 'teen rebellion.'" She stated flatly. "Or so your brother says. With the way he talks you'd swear he was a therapist, not a cop. Either way he said it could pass or get worse depending on how we deal with it."

"Oh, that's reassuring." I laughed sarcastically. "Give the man with daddy issues a rebellious teen."

"Talk to him." She tried, looking up at me. "Maybe we aren't spending enough time with him."

"I try to take him fishing, or out to town, nothing works." My shoulders dropped. "He doesn't seem to want anything to do with me."

"Me either.." She frowned, then looked up, smiling. "Hey, we're nearing the town!"

I looked up as well and smiled, streets lights illuminating the border of the small city. I decided then that we took a day out without the kids for a reason: we needed it. Even if the kids were leaving the next day for a trip with uncle Al and aunt May, we wanted a head start. We needed a night without stress (though so far it wasn't going in that direction), a night where we can relax and not have to worry about anything. Still, as parents, your mind constantly wanders back to your kids: how they're doing, what they're doing, if they're okay, and how to make things okay, in this case.

Winry and I, from the moment our oldest, Caiden was born, had no idea what we were doing, but Granny says we're doing fine. Better than that bastard I think, anyway.

With the new job though, not long after Caiden was born, I had to leave town a lot. I've tried to ask Winry to move to Central with me, and no matter how much the pros outweighed the cons, her grandmother meant the world to her. We couldn't leave her here. Admittedly, I actually can't leave the old hag here alone either. Granny's tough, like me, but shit, even I need company, y'know?

I just wish the career I chose wasn't so taxing in so many ways. I had decided on blood spatter during my travels, having been to one too many crime scenes and hearing stories about all of these different serial killers and seeing their work. At first it disgusted me-I vomited, I even cried once. Or twice. Once you get passed all that, though, and learn about how the scene went down, shit's pretty interesting.

Just by looking at a crime scene I can tell you where the victim and murderer were standing, if there was a struggle, if they ran, what weapon was used, how hard they were hit, stabbed, shot, it's a little story, all cramped into one scene.

Winry never liked to hear about it. During our first few years of marriage, when I would bring my spatter paintings home from the lab, she'd turn them away the instant she saw what I was carrying. Obviously, it didn't interest her as much as it did me, which was okay. I'd seen a lot of blood in my lifetime, even before this career choice-she didn't, and she sure as hell shouldn't have to.

We ate dinner relatively quickly, left, walked downtown a ways and bought dessert-then left for home. It wasn't a boring evening, per se, but it wasn't crazy, like our nights used to be. No, we were too old for that. I was...Gate, nearing thirty-five, Winry was already there. With a thirteen year old, five year old and nine month old, sleep wasn't an option.

This headache, though, tonight may have to come as an exception. I think Winry would be handling Allen tonight.

When we arrived home we were only given around thirty minutes of peace before our kids came tumbling in, neighbor handing Allen off to Winry. I stayed downstairs long enough to greet them all, Caiden avoiding me almost completely and heading straight to his room, before I practically crawled up the stairs and fell into bed.

Sleep felt like nothing but a blink for me, when I opened my eyes just a second later it was noon and I jumped out of bed, almost panicking-then I remembered: Today we were sending the kids off to stay with Al and May for a few days. I sighed a breath of relief and went downstairs, finding the kids almost ready to leave. They were going to a new waterpark a few towns away, one that just opened, and they were more than ready to leave. Especially Caiden, it seemed.

I dressed myself and met them all downstairs again, Alphonse putting the kids belongings in the car. May was busy coddling our youngest, not even paying attention to Win or I, which was fine-I think she was suffering a bit of baby fever. As much as Alphonse wanted kids, May, for some time, actually didn't, which surprised us all. As much as she paid attention our kids, you'd think she'd want some of her own. It wasn't until recent, I believe, that Al was convincing her they were ready. Hell, they'd been ready- financially at least.

I noticed Rita, our five-year-old, waiting patiently with her stuffed lion, who she named Roy of all things, and I picked her up, smiling at her. "You're gonna be good for aunt May and uncle Al, aren't you?"

She smiled at me, giving me her best 'of course daddy' look, which...wasn't fooling me in the least. I scoffed, smirking. "Rita..."

"I will!" She insisted, more honestly this time. "You'll take care of Roy and the others, right?"

I had to fight to roll my eyes at that remark-she's only Five. "Of course I will. They'll all be treated to a three-course meal and a show, every night."

"Good." She suffered a few daddy-kisses to the cheek from my scruffy face, then from her mother's soft one, and wiggled from my arms, running to the car outside. I then crossed my arms and sighed, looking to Caiden.

"You're gonna have fun, right?"

He just barely acknowledged me, nodding.

"And you'll behave?"

He nodded again.

"Good." I ruffled his hair and grinned-Gate, he hated that-and watched him run to the car as well. I rubbed the back of my head as Al approached me, slapping a hand on my shoulder.

"They'll be fine." He reassured me. "Maybe this will help Caiden's attitude-maybe he just needs to...get away and have some fun for a while."

"I'm not fun?" I asked, turning to him. Alphonse held his hands up defensively.

"No, you are! I mean he wants to have fun with someone else." He stated. "He isn't making friends well, is he?"

"He would if he wouldn't be so off-standish towards everyone."

"Oh, I wonder where he got that from."

I frowned, punching my brother in the shoulder. I walked to the car, ignoring his whining, and bent down to look in the backseat at my kids. "Be good, alright? If you need anything-at all-call us." I stood and looked to Al and May. "You too. If they get hurt, if you get hurt, if you need money, if-"

"Brother." Alphonse stopped me, voice stern, but there was still love in it. "We'll be fine. I can take care of a few kids. Especially Elrics, I am one."

"He just doesn't want another Roy mishap." Winry chimed in. She wrapped her arms around me and place her head on my shoulder-well, the best she could anyway, standing on her tip toes. Damn, that felt nice to know. "He was so sure he could handle a couple of Elric kids. Too confident after watching you two."

"Mostly Brother." Al grinned, jumping into the car before I could grab him. "We'll see you guys in a few days."

And with that, they left, and all you could hear were Allen's cries from in the house. Winry made a move to retrieve him and I stopped her, taking care of the issue myself. Allen fussed in his pack-n-play, upset with...oh, that smell. Maybe I should have let Win get this one. I picked him up and looked him in the eyes, lips pursed. "We're getting you potty trained ASAP buddy."

He smiled brightly at me, as if he had wanted me to be disgusted, babies definitely know more than they let on.


	3. A Brief (unsettling) Reunion

A weekend without the kids sounded nice, even if Allen had to stay behind. Admittedly, we had him a bit late. Despite doubts he turned out healthy and...normal, just like the other two, besides Caiden's newfound silence and attitude.

"Just a phase." I reminded myself, though every time I repeated this to myself it did nothing to satisfy my uneasiness. Teenagers were difficult, and he still had another five years ahead of him, I honestly didn't know how any of us were going to survive it. I'd heard about how teeneagers could be, how depression or anxiety could affect them. Considering my mental history, it scared me a little.

Once Allen was all changed I picked him up, pleased with the new, fresh smell he omitted. "Thaaaat's better, huh?" I cradled him and bounced him a little. "Weekend with me n' mommy, sounds fun, right?" I wasn't given a response, quite obviously, and, as though his tiny, underdeveloped brain was suddenly going to understand the noises my mouth emitted, I made a face. "We also need to get you talking. This is frustrating."

I went downstairs and handed the freshly-changed infant to Winry, who placed him in his pack 'n play. She turned to me, blonde hair whipping around her shoulder. "So."

I had just picked up my coffee and had it to my mouth when she'd said this and I paused, looked away, then back to her. "What?" My response was muffled by my mug as coffee splashed against my lips. She rolled her beautiful eyes at me and flashed me a smile.

"What are we gonna do? This is our first kidless weekend in years."

I shrugged. "Well I was hoping to sit down and have a beer or something, relax, y'know-start our weekend slow. Sounds nice, right?"

She shrugged as well, tilting her head. "I guess..."

I finally took a sip of my coffee. "What?"

"No, you're right, you're right-"

"Say that again?"

Winry's smile turned sarcastic. "Shut up. You're right, let's relax, before some bullshit comes up."

I pointed at her, replacing my mug with a beer from the fridge. "Language, Mrs. Elric."

It was when we sat down, Allen in his pack-n-play nearby, beer in our hands, that we realized that we really didn't know how to relax anymore. The word hadn't been in my own dictionary since before my mother passed, and Winry had always worked just as hard towards her own goals. With our goals finally met, plus new additions to the Elric family, we finally get some alone time and we're...dumbstruck. We felt like idiots just sitting there. About an hour in the phone rang and Winry seized the moment before I could even react and I smiled.

"Rockbell Automail." She answered sweetly. As she tended to the phone I grabbed two more beers and opened them, replacing our empty, second bottles. Admittedly, I hadn't drank in some time, and I was a little buzzed, so when my wife handed me the phone I just stared at it, then back to her beautiful...angry face.

"Elric." I sighed a little, holding the receiver to my ear.

"Ed, it's me."

"Hughes?" I asked, scrunching up my face. "What-what is it? We kinda just started our weekend and-"

"The killer wasn't the husband." He cut me off, voice all business and devoid of emotion. "The spatter on his shirt was actually from holding her, the kill was recent and she was still bleeding out. The husband had walked in on the murderer chopping her up in the tub, the suspect dropped the weapon and ran."

I sat silent for a moment, trying to remember what he was talking about. "What-? What husband, what are you talking about?"

It was Hughes' turn to hesitate. "Our serial killer? That murder that happened yesterday, you know, we thought it was the husband?"

"Right! Right-" I cut him off, pressing the chilled beer to my head. "Does his alibi check out?" I asked, sipping my drink.

"Positive. Coworkers said they were out to lunch."

"Shit." I cursed, holding the bottle to my still aching head once more. "This...this isn't good. So the killer has moved-"

"And he's getting close to you. I would be careful. Watch your backs."

"We just wanted to fucking relax, fuck." I cursed, biting my lip. No, this wasn't good at all. Whatever this guy's damage was it was seriously starting to affect my personal life and Winry wasn't going to be happy about this either.

"Well, now we've got sort of an ID on this guy-not much, but the husband's been giving us all he can. I'll call you when something big comes up."

I nodded, realized he couldn't see me, and replied with a short 'yeah' and hung up. Winry was behind me, her own beer in hand with her arms crossed. I smiled sheepishly at her. "Just work."

"Just work?" She raised her eyebrow. "Was it about the serial killer hunting those women?"

I searched for any possible way to word my next phrase wisely before spitting it out. "We need to be careful, he's moving closer to our area."

"So we can't even go out this weekend?"

"Realistically...no."

She shook her head, pissed. "I'm tired of it, Ed! I thought we were done watching our backs?"

"We WERE watching mine and Al's backs." I corrected her. "Now we're watching yours. Everything will be fine-we'll have fun like we wanted, I promise. Tell you what: we'll go out and have all of our fun tomorrow, huh?" I grinned. "There's no way he's in Resembool, at least yet, if ever, we're probably just over thinking this."

She pouted, dropping her head and keeping her eyes on me. "You think so?"

"Probably." I replied. I approached her and wrapped my arms around her small waist. "Everything will be fine. C'mon, let's go make dinner."

Our night, unlike the night before, was far from uneventful this time. We'd made dinner, put Allen to bed, then had the...adult fun we'd been waiting on for months, a year more like it. And it wasn't a quickie like we'd been trying to pass off-it was actual slow, romantic love making. Which turned into 'fucking', I wont lie.

As I had promised her, we were getting ready to head out the next day. Showered, dressed, and little Allen was ready to go as well. I carried him to his stroller, secured him in it and we left, deciding to walk seeing as my car was still in the shop. My head had been in almost constant pain since that night, my whole body was, but damned I be if I was going to tell her that. Winry had also noted that I was having trouble remembering things-little things she'd tell me, and carried it off into joking that I just don't listen, typical man, all that. That wreck was seriously putting a damper on my ability to function.

We sat down at a small cafe and smiled to our waitress, our usual one who didn't even need to ask what we wanted. She said we were boring, we claimed to like consistency. As we waited for our food we made idle conversation, then I'd notice a familiar face. It was an aged face, one I may have even preferred to forget completely, yet with some digging in my mind I'd come to a realization.

And the way he looked at me, almost with hurt-

"Jake..." It was barely audible, then he smiled at me, and I made a weak attempt to smile back. Winry turned to see who I was getting so friendly with and immediately Jake's expression changed-he obviously wasn't happy about seeing her. Instead of turning back to his food he stood up and approached us, forcing a smile.

"Edward, it's been years, how are you?"

I choked on my words, trying to find something to say and still sound friendly. "G-great, yeah. It's been, wow, wha-"

"Fifteen years." He stated, tone flat.

"Yeah." I looked away, then looked back, straightening up. "How have you been?"

"Fine." His answers were short, I didn't like it. Winry chose an opportune time to chime in, though confused.

"I don't get it, who's this?" Thank Gate she didn't see the look he gave her, he seemed...livid that she dare didn't know who he was.

"You never told her?" He asked, looking back to me from the corner of his eye. "Wonder why?"

This tension needed to be difused immediately. "Yeah hey, Win, this is...Jake Hummings. We uh...dated. Briefly."

"It was fun." He added, all smiles.

"But nothing serious." I reiterated, not as though I had said it recently, but I'd told him, time and time again while we were together that I was just experimenting, fooling around, getting that shit out before I wanted to settle. He knew I loved Winry, but he had a hell of a time accepting it, and always refused it, especially after I left him. First and last time he'd ever laid a hand on me.

Winry just smiled at him, not bothered by it in the least, it seemed. "I'm sure it was fun, he's a great guy."

"So I've heard." Jake contributed. "I see a lot of articles about you and your family in the paper." He nodded towards Allen. "A new installment, as I've read?"

I shook my head. Hughes had a habit of...fawning over my family. When Winry and I married, he wrote an article about us in the Central Times, that one was blown out of proportion. With each new child he wrote a new article, just tiny ones. As much as we wanted our life private, we knew he was just proud, but Gate, he couldn't find a better way to show us?

"I'll leave you to lunch." He said suddenly, as if he wasn't completely sure he wanted to know about Allen. He nodded to me. "I'll be seeing you," he smirked at my wife, "and you as well."

As he walked back to his table I put my chin in my hand, covering my mouth. Winry turned to me, with an unreadable expression-not anger, no, not sadness, nor even happiness-AH! Confusion.

"You dated a guy?"

I shrugged. "Well, yeah, I mean-" I didn't know what to say, was she actually angry?

"I'm not angry-"

Oh.

"I just don't know why you never told me you..."

"'Swung that way'?" I asked, moving my hand from my chin to the table. "I didn't think it was important, really."

She shrugged. "I guess not, just-" She paused, letting the waitress place our orders on the table and walking away before she continued. "Is there more I don't know about you?"

I poked at my food as she stared at me, waiting for it cool, and I looked up to return her glance. "Not really, we've been married fourteen years, there's not much else I can keep from you."

"Anything?" She asked, finally picking up her fork to eat.

I shrugged, then tilted my head in thought. "Nothing important..."

"Everything about you is important to me, you know." She smile sweetly. "If there is anything you'd like to talk about, or want to tell me, you can. I'll share things with you better, too."

I smiled back at her. "Fine."

We continued our lunch in silence, going back and forth on spoon-feeding Allen the lunch we'd brought for him, then left. I avoided all eye contact with Jake as we passed him by, his stare made me uncomfortable-I knew he was watching us as we walked away. The man he was with wasn't that friendly looking either. Not obviously a date, the more burly man wasn't his type, so how they knew each other I wasn't sure, but thank Gate I didn't need to be forced into an introduction.

My relationship with him had brief and it had been a mistake. Not that I'd said that to his face, no, I was never so cruel, but he was more than I could handle, and now I was wishing in my head that I had told him. Exactly how I felt. I stated over and over to him that our relationship was strictly nothing like what he was looking for, but he accepted me anyway. He told me he understood, but when he started to get attached I ducked out. I had told him I was returning to Resembool, and I'd had fun, but he was hurt and he lashed out. Y'know, when I said he'd laid a hand on me? Well I laid one on him right back.

And that was it.

I hadn't spoken to him since, in fact I had forgotten about him as soon as Winry and I had started our prolonged relationship. Seeing his face during our lunch date was like, well, another smack to the face. I really hadn't meant to hurt the guy, but after the way he acted how could you really feel sorry about it?

I wasn't feeling guilt, at this moment, no. It was anxiety, and not the kind of general uneasiness you feel during your first day of a new job, but full blown anxiety. A weight was on my chest, it was hard to breathe and for Gate's sake, why? I'd battled homunculi and this man was giving me the ultimate heebie jeebies? Poor, pathetic Edward what's gotten into you? Take a deep breath and straighten up, really.

My wife must have noticed, as if I was just radiating pure dread, because she clung to my arm in a loving manner as I pushed the stroller along, not paying much mind to anything around me and running on auto-pilot back to the house.

When we arrived home we weren't much shocked to see Pinako hadn't returned yet. The old bat had been gone since the morning of my accident on a business trip and still seemed to be caught up in such. Which, was fine. Our vacation truly was a vacation then.

"I'm going out for a little bit." Winry decided, I'm not sure when, and in response I stayed where I stood, coffee in hand as always. I stared at her, befuddled.

"Are you sure? You don't want me to go with you?" I asked, tilting my head. "I thought we agreed it wasn't safe for you to go out."

"I'm going out with Kelly." Our neighbor, the wife of the man who had driven Winry to come see me in the hospital. "We wont be long."

I sighed and rubbed the back of my head, it was always useless to argue. "Fine, fine, go. But please be careful, and don't talk to anyone you don't know, alright?"

"Fine, daddy." I couldn't tell if her tone was supposed to be as seductive as it came out but regardless I shivered, setting my coffee down to take a moment. I watched her leave, like really watched her, then ultimately decided this was the best time for me and little Allen to have some father-son time.

And by that, I meant sleep. Gate, we both needed a nap. My son was already dozing when I picked him up from his high-chair and carried him to this crib, made sure he was properly situated, stuffed bear and all, then trudged to my own room.

I didn't even remove my shoes, or my shirt or pants or anything, instead I fell onto the bed with an exasperated groan and closed my eyes.

It wasn't even blissful, it was just a wink, as always. This was better than the reocurring nightmares, I came to that conclusion easily. When I awoke Winry was home, it had been about an hour as she promised, but instead of her usual cheery demeanor I was greeted with blood-boiling anger, and I couldn't honestly for the life of me think of one thing I had done wrong this entire weekend, then one possibility hit me. I didn't like it, it was a slim possibility on it's own, but it was, as all possiblities are, possible.

She slammed my carkeys down on the table and I knew I was fucked, so much I involuntarily clenched my ass. I hadn't seen this rage in months, not since the night Allen was born. I remember her curses, that it was all my fault, though she hadn't meant it, that didn't make her any less scary.

So when I said nothing and sat down at the table in silence, head down and tail between my legs like a dog who had just shat on the carpet she unleashed her fury.

"How dare you lie to me!" She hissed. "How dare you lie to me about something like this!" She slapped the picture of my totaled car onto the table and I retreated into my seat, shrinking as if it'd protect me. "Look at the fucking SUV-it's totaled! Edward, Ed-Look at me!" She barked and my head flew up, lips pursed to keep any uncontrolled sarcastic comments to myself. I didn't have much of a filter, admittedly, and today, neither did she.

Her voice wasn't the cracked, broken kind of angry, it was even and loud, she knew exactly what she wanted to say, how she would say it, and how to make me feel like shit. Not that I didn't deserve this lecture, I had it coming, but if I could have prolonged it further I would have a rebuttal at the ready.

I didn't have one.

Her shoulders dropped after a long, final string of curses and she sighed, putting a hand to her head. "Edward, look. At. The. Car."

I looked at the picture again and winced, scrunching my nose. "Y-yeah, sorry...I didn't mean for it to be so bad. They're fixing it, and I'll pay for it, I promise-"

"They already fixed it." She said. "That's what I had left for, I was going to get the car for you to surprise you. He asked if I wanted to see a before picture, I wish I'd said no..." Her voice was quiet, now nearing that sad, angry breaking point I really wasn't ready for. I could handle her angry, I couldn't stand to see Win cry.

"I know, I'm sorry, the car is fine now so-"

"I'm not concerned about the car!" She belted, tense again. "It's you! Edward, a crash like this could have killed you! Are you sure a concussion was all you really got? Wait, I saw bandages when we had sex, did you-oh my god, Edward how bad was it?"

I clenched my teeth, looking away in thought. "Uhh...not..well, it wasn't good, I mean, it did roll-"

"Four times." She added angrily.

"...four times..." I repeated quietly with a slight nod. "I know. I'm sorry. But I'm fine, and the cars fine, everything's fine."

Her head dropped and her eyes stared at the wooden floor below us. "But it could have been worse..."

"You're right, it could have been, and it should have been, but it didn't, so we're fine." I reiterated. "A couple cuts, a gash or two and a concussion was all I got, I'm okay."

Winry finally moved from the spot she had been glued to for so long and approached me, putting her hands on my head and I couldn't surpress the grimace I let go, causing her to quickly remove her hands once more. "The concussion must be why you aren't remembering things well..."

I shrugged, grinning. "Win, I can't even remember my own birthday half the time, c'mon, it's normal."

She huffed and crossed her arms. "I'm still angry."

"You can be angry."

"But not angry enough to make you sleep on the couch."

"Well, I'd hope not. I am an injured man, after all."

"Did I injure your dignity at all?"

"A little."

She chuckled, pushing some hair behind her ear. "Stop lying to me from now on, okay? We can always avoid these messes if you just...tell me the truth half the time."

"I know, I know." I mumbled, standing back up. I took the photo of my wrecked car and threw it on top of the fridge where the kids wouldn't see. "I'll try to be more honest."

"You've been saying that since you were twelve."

"Hey, I'm getting better at it!" I claimed playfully, putting my hands on my hips. "C'mon, have some faith in me."

She only shook her head and watched me grab a drink from the fridge. "So, what do we want for dinner tonight?"


	4. Goodbye to (my) World

Chapter Four|2,606 words

The conversation about the car-well, the car and I, was long forgotten as we pulled ideas from each other about what to eat for dinner. As we did so we mindlessly played with Allen, showing him some flashcards, shapes, etc, without paying much attention to it. He wasn't either, he wasn't much in the mood today. Both of our older children were exceptionally smart, very smart for their age, they both started school early. Having parents who were both considered prodigies usually helped.

Allen though didn't seem to have much interest in the things we showed Caiden and Rita when they were young, and I began to think we were starting a tad early. My own father had always kept me on a tight academic leash before he left, after that my curiosity fed itself, more so when Al joined me in my studies. Brainy little Edward had a study buddy. Our mother was proud of us, and with or without that bastard of a father, that's all that mattered. As long as mom was happy and proud, everything was ok in the world.

Winry, though...I couldn't imagine losing both of my parents at the same time, two people you hang on to and look up to so much leave and never come back. Al and I, I think, at the time were rather lucky. I mean, it wasn't a walk in the park losing our only other blood relative then trying to gruesomely resurrect her, but our father did return. We never did get to say goodbye, though, and that thought still hung in the back of my mind.

I hated him, but he was my father. There's always that connection.

My mind wasn't able to lead down the darker path of those thoughts before Winry noticed my dazed expression and snapped me out of it. It happened sometimes. While the nightmares were less frequent, they had been replaced with day dreaming, sometimes flashbacks, or hallucinations. At least, during the day, there was someone there to control my involuntary actions, as opposed to how bad my lashing and thrashing would hurt my wife as we lie in bed.

The guilt from those few incidents usually led to me exiling myself to the couch for the night. She would scorn me in the morning for 'subjecting myself to such an uncomfortable surface', but it's not like I slept anyway.

"Get that goofy look off your face." She nudged my shoulder, giving me a smile. She acted like it was easy-my mind had been on the fritz since lunch, and my anxiety had yet to disappear completely. Something felt...off. "C'mon, back to dinner, what do we make?"

I curled my lips in thought, eyebrows raised. "Well...how about you pick something, and I'll make it. You can dress up all fancy..." I placed my arm around her waist as I spoke, voice lowering into a husky tone. "While I slave away to make the Queen happy, hm?"

Her shoulders slumped, causing her loose hair to splay out and fall along her shoulders. "You always make dinner. Well, when you're here."

"Because you work. Hard." I replied as I rested my chin on her shoulder. I looked up at her with puppy eyes, the best I could manage. Honestly, I wanted to make her dinner and let her fancy herself up and relax, and she's reluctant?

"You work hard too, dummy." She replied, but she had a certain wiggle in her that meant she was easing up to my idea. "Plus all the traveling, dealing with Allen all night, the accident-"

"Fenderbender." I interrupted with a mumble.

"-Edward, c'mon, you always cook, you always take care of the kids, you work your ass off, you make all the repairs-"

"A regular ol' housewife..." I mumbled once more with a smile. "And I like it that way. Keeps me domesticated."

"You were never the domesticated type, Ed." Winry chuckled, nudging my chin with her shoulder.

"Not until the kids, no." I replied, sitting up and pulling our youngest into my lap. "They put me on more of a leash than Mustang ever could."

"Please," Winry let out an airy sigh, brushing hair behind her ear, "the way he handled you two, I'm surprised he's managed not to damn this country."

I made a face, shrugging. "Well, he did help save said country. Blind."

"True." She willed herself off the floor-something I dared not think of yet-and nudged me with her foot. "C'mon. Dinner. Hungry."

"Wife. Sit. Man. Cook." I mocked her teasingly as I stood, bringing Allen up with me. A love tap to my shoulder and she exited the room, making sure to add an extra sway to her hips in an attempt to get my attention. Well, she had it. Dinner obviously wasn't the only thing on her beautiful mind.

I smiled at the boy in my arms, bouncing him a little. "I think it's nap time, huh buddy? Daddy's got some business to attend to."

The creepy, crawling, quiver that rested in my spine all night was becoming a pain-the uneasiness following me with every step, every move. Every turn of the wooden spoon as I stirred up our dinner, every skip it took to make it to my next ingredient in the cupboards I could feel eyes and I prayed it was just the concussion sending me back into full blown anxiety, but I felt lied to. By myself, of course. This anxiety had been felt once today, the same stomach twisting, lung crushing panic was settling on me again as I prepared dinner. I had dropped my spoon multiple times, shaky, uneaven movements leaving me uncoordated in the midst of my fear-induced panic attack.

The same feeling I had when Al and I-well...mostly I, got into trouble.

Winry appeared in the doorway, wearing a gorgeous floral dress with a halter top and smiled mischieviously at me, and in an attempt to hide my panic, I smiled back, mirroring her movements. That's how you deal with anxiety, right? Fake it til you make it, like Havoc always said.

"You look sick." She commented, rather bluntly I'll add. How rude. "Are you sure you don't wanna go lie down?"

It took me a moment of searching for a decent answer before my happy mask returned, turning my head to her. "I'm great. Dandy. Feel like a super hero."

Winry rolled her eyes, but continued to smirk, probably out of pity. Oh, how easy it was for her to see right through me now a days, damn marriage. "Well I'm gonna go dry my hair, call me when it's ready?"

"Absolutely." I kissed her briefly before returning to my task. Another ten minutes in I shut the burners off, wiping my hands from any stray spatters and steam, looking around. As I set the table the uneasiness didn't leave me, in fact it grew stronger, and as I carefully placed the last utensil on the kitchen table I'd heard a thump.

That thump had not been preceeded by the soft footsteps of my small wife, no.

I whipped my head around just in time to lean back, dodging a fist to my somewhat suspecting face and ducked under the assailants arm, elbow jabbing him in his ribs. With him cut off guard I took the opportunity to take a step away from him and assess the situation. He was MUCH larger than me, and bore a mask on his face, unwilling to reveal to me his identity, and though I had no I.D., I knew who this man was.

He was our killer.

And if I didn't act fast, my wife's murderer.

He came at me again and I dodged, yelping in pain as my arm was grabbed and twisted behind me, knees kicked out from under me. Such a common move, I should have seen it coming, it was basic fucking military training. I've been out of practice too long. I struggled to free myself, head swimming from the exertion as he pulled something into my peripherals, I had just caught the glimpse of the needle before it slid easily into my neck, and within seconds, my world was dark.

I awoke slowly on my bathroom floor, unable to move. My vision fought it's way into the clear, my surroundings still blurry, but I could hear it.

I could hear her muffled screams.

They were weak, they were scared, I was scared, oh Gate she must have been terrified-I could see the killer standing above the bathtub. I could hear Allen's wails as he sat across from me on the bathroom floor, helpless as well. My wife, Winry, she stared at me with large, traumatized blue eyes and in that moment, unable to move, unable to speak-I grit my teeth, willing my muscles to cooperate, instead I froze, paralyzed under our attacker's cold stare as his eyes traced Winry's line of view.

He approached me slowly, heavy footsteps carrying him across our pristine white tile, and knealed down next to me, waving one of Winry's wrenches in my face. He said nothing, that sick fuck just teased me-prepared me for what he was going to do and I could only watch, grinding my jaw and emitting a low growl, some sort of weak attempt at dominance.

He stood back up, knee's popping from the strain and carried himself back to my wife, who lay helplessly tied and gagged in our tub, pleaing and sobbing behind the rag in her mouth.

"Don't..."

He turned to me again as I spoke, barely managing to raise my voice past a whisper.

"...don't fucking touch her."

He approached me again and sat me up against the sink cupboards, turning my head towards the scene. He made sure my eyes were fixated on the two of them before he stood before Winry and raised his arm, bringing it down to put a halt to her terrified screaming.

If I could have moved in that moment, if I could have done more than let out a choked sob, that man would be dead. I had sworn to never kill a day in my life but this man was an exception. He had made her death so quick with the one blow, it put Winry's wrench weilding to shame. The same wrench that had always found it's way to my own head when I fucked up was now the same god damned tool that had taken her away from me.

And if I didn't think I was next, if I could move, well...That man wouldn't walk another foot without my hands at his throat.

He dropped the wrench with an ear-piercing clatter and put his hands to his hips, presumably thinking. What could this sick fuck possibly be contemplating at a time like this? He turned towards me again, then back to Winry, to Allen, then turned and left.

As his footsteps disappeared down the hall I sat paralyzed, dazed and confused as to why he had just left Allen and I there. Of course, his M.O. was to kill the wife-never the husband, or the children, so as my head cleared it made...well, it still made little sense. The drugs didn't exactly mix well with my concussion. Did he want me to suffer? Had I wronged this man? Did he get off forcing me to watch my wife die and then leaving me there for...Gate knows how long?

Instead he returned, a rather large knife in his hand, not one of our own, no. The blade looked sharp, sharp enough to cut through...no, no, this man wasn't done. His ritual had changed, in his previous murder.

The victims were chopped up in the tub.

I struggled helpessly to get my body to move before this bastard could fuck anything else up. I cursed, I spit, I did whatever I could to hold off what he was about to do, anything so I wouldn't have to watch. So Allen didn't have to see.

Before he made the first cut, he turned back to look at me. His voice was low and even as he spoke to me, unwavered by his actions, undeterred by my own.

"Don't worry. You'll be with her soon. Bare with me. So will your son."

"Fuck you." I ground out, muscles in my arm spasming as they fought to regain control. "You sick fucking-fuck you. Get away. From. My. Wife."

The knife glided through her arm so smoothly-the first to go. "No can do. I'm a serial killer in the works, I don't leave jobs unfinished. This is only my second murder, though, so I'm a bit out of practice." He turned on the faucet, letting the tub fill.

Only his second kill? But wasn't he our guy?

It took him all of twenty minutes to dismantle my late wife as my child screamed, as I wept- at this point the tub had overflowed with saturated blood, staining our floors and my clothes-Allen's clothes. The killer's messy, eager movements leaving splatter on our baby blue walls.

He stood up and stepped back, admiring his work, and turned the faucet off. He then turned to me again, legs bringing his large frame to me. As he knealed down he waved the bloody knife in my face, and I could tell he bore a grin under his mask, my stomach churned at the thought.

The blade was then brought up to my neck and he paused, hesitating. "Well, you have been a good boy, you've earned this."

He removed his mask to reveal himself, and part of me was less than shocked, I should have seen it coming. Jake's 'friend' from lunch. He was the killer?

"Name's Michael, by the way." He smiled at me, using the end of the knife to bring my face up to level with him. "Surprised?"

"Hardly." I spit out, skin gliding against the tip of the blade. "What's this about? What do you have to do with Jake?"

"You wouldn't need to know." Michael mumbled, looking me up and down.

"Why?"

He paused in thought, seemingly unsure of how to answer my weighted question. "I don't need to explain myself to you, Edward. You'll be six fucking feet under soon enough. So will your son."

"Fuck you." I could feel myself shaking-whether with fear or rage I wasn't sure. "She didn't deserve this and don't you fucking dare bring my child-my children into this."

"Oh?" He shook his head, turning the blade and pushing his up against my neck. "Too bad. He's suffered enough, it's your turn."

"Who-"

The blade slid across my throat and I could feel the blood seep onto my neck, but I could also hear a door...and a voice, not my own, not Michael's. It was Granny.

In a panic, Michael dropped the weapon, unable to finish the cut to my throat, shoving his head back into his mask and running out of the bathroom door. I slid down the cupboard wall to the floor, letting my body go limp. There wasn't a point in fighting it, fighting the bliss I knew would come from this pain...an oddly numb pain.

Allen would be left to Al and May, so would Rita and Caiden, they'd be in better hands. Better than I could ever do for them, Al and May were better influences, more fun, well rounded...able to protect each other...But Winry.

Winry was the best mother I'd ever seen, had the pleasure to wed, to love, to care for, to bed...and she was gone.

I think slipped unconcious after that, the blood loss leaving me dizzy. I wasn't sure when I woke up, where I was, or how I was even alive in that moment.

But I didn't feel like me.


End file.
